The color of sand
by Konpeitou
Summary: Sand has always been an integral part of Gaara's life. It is as much a part of him as any other limb. A simple gift from a precious person causes Gaara to muse over the importance of it to him; of frienship and the colors of sand. For GaaNaru fanday '08.


konpeitou: This is a little drabble written for the GaaNaru fanday '08 started on LJ. I do not own Naruto and only write for fun. I hope you enjoy

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Ironically, Gaara didn't always like sand

Ironically, Gaara didn't always like sand.

When he was young he hadn't thought about it. Sand was sand; it was there as much as the air or anything else, so he didn't concern himself with it except that it was always with him. He hadn't thought about how rough it was, how barren, or even how insubstantial it was. He never really thought about how it was always wrapped around him like a second skin, how it jumped out to protect him from attackers. People had told him that he was different, that it was unnatural, but he hadn't really understood what they meant until much later. By then it didn't matter anyway. Sand was an integral part of his life.

When he'd become a Genin, Gaara had been sent out of his village on missions. Not too far, of course... no one trusted him to go very far away, but he'd gone out beyond the baking dunes of his homeland. The first time Gaara saw real trees he was already too jaded to care. He fulfilled his mission quickly and without mercy and returned to the deserts he was used to. He'd felt something small and strange within him when he'd first left those greener lands and it was some time before he would look back and realize what it was.

When his team had travelled to Konoha – the farthest he'd ever been able to venture past his Village – Gaara hadn't cared about anything but killing the opposition. Not even the lovely trees and crisp flowing river. He and his sand would destroy anything that was in his path, it was as simple as that.

Except that it wasn't. He'd been beaten, given what was quite possibly the most thorough thrashing of his life thus far and sent home. He wondered, later, if his burden on them had been heavier than the one that sat on his mind.

For a time after that, Gaara had hated sand.

He had been suddenly forced to think of it in a way that he never had before. Yes, he'd known that his sand killed. He hadn't really realized that it _killed_. It was different, and yet not at all. Gaara had grown to hate the rough feel of it sliding over his skin, hate the smell of blood forever tainting his personal reservoir, hate the lifelessness of it that did nothing more than take life since it had none of its own. Gaara hated the sand but he could not escape it. So he learned instead that sand would be his cross to bear in life. His title, Sabaku no Gaara, had been aptly named long before he ever realized the full meaning.

Then, a couple years later, Gaara had received an international package. It had been small and simple, a hollow scroll case with something small and heavy moving around inside. Completely perplexed and no little bit curious, Gaara had opened the case. Inside had been small glass jar, stoppered with a cork and sealed with wax, and a slip of paper.

He read the paper first and nearly dropped the little jar, so strong was his surprise. He scanned it again and again but the words didn't change. The loudmouthed idiot that had trounced him six ways from sunday had sent him a letter. And a gift. Gaara stood there for he wasn't sure how long just trying to wrap his head around the concept. The letter was short and simple, written in mediocre handwriting that was at times hard to discern but nonetheless gave off a cheery undertone. Naruto greeted him genially, if a bit cautiously, and asked simple pleasantries. The writing then jumped to say that Naruto was off on a training expedition and was travelling around wherever his sensei felt like dragging him. There was talk of beaches and bikinis and some comments that frankly went over Gaara's head, but it boiled down to the point that Naruto had seen the sand and inexplicably thought of Gaara. _It looks different than yours_, he remembered reading, _so I thought you might like it._ It moved again to generic pleasantries that in turn lead to a goodbye.

Gaara had sat there staring alternately at the note and the jar until Temari came across him and asked if anything was wrong. Not understanding anything any more than he had since he'd first opened the package, he'd simply handed her the two objects. Temari's face was a study of expressions as she read the note quickly, from confusion to mild irritation to numb surprise. She shook herself out of it, though, and broke into a small laugh. She was smiling when she handed the items back. "It's a gift, Gaara."

He'd just scowled at her, "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Whatever you want," she answered with a shrug, turning and walking away. "It's yours now."

So Gaara returned to staring at the little jar well into the night as though it might come alive and give him an answer.

Several years later, Gaara now sat with a longer note and a similarly larger package in front of him. It started, as always, with a friendly greeting. The opening questions spoke less of pleasantries and more of genuine interest for his welfare. Naruto wrote about what he'd been up to and how he was doing as well. Nearly half the note was taken up with the friendly catch-up. The second half, as always, spoke of where he'd been and the origins of the latest gift. They'd gone to another beach, the note said, one of the smaller islands around the southern coast of the Water country. _They have some really amazing sand there,_ it said, _take a look, if you haven't already._

So Gaara set aside the note and carefully broke the seal around the wooden box's clasp and opened it up. He stared, wide eyed, at the small pool of sparkling white sand that filled the box. It was, by far, the most that Naruto had ever sent him. Usually it was only a small container filled with some sort of sand that he felt was peculiar and different than Gaara's own sand. A little darker, a little more rough or smooth, a little lighter, a little red... whatever it was that caught his attention. Gaara had to admit that he hadn't even known that there was white sand, and he stared at the mass of it for a few moments before returning his attention to the note.

_The people around here seem to be really proud of it and said that these islands are the only place to find it. I hope I didn't send you too much! Take it out in the moonlight sometime, I swear it glows. _ Gaara stared at the sand again and reaches out a hand to touch it; it felt smooth, nothing at all like the sand he was accustomed to. It almost felt soft. He finished reading the note, which was some more commentary on the island as well as comments that he'd heard of black sand in the Earth country that he was trying to get to. Gaara almost didn't notice the small smile that tugged at his lips at that, inexplicably touched that Naruto was actually making plans to find sand to send. He finished reading and then read it a second time for good measure.

When he was done he folded the note back up and set it aside, turning his attention back to the box of sand. With one hand still touching the white dust, infusing chakra into it, he called to the rest of his sand to reshape itself into its usual gourd shape beside him. When it finished coalescing he brushed his free hand absently over the smaller dome, seeing – as only he could – all the little variances in the grains. Then he did as he'd done with every gift since the first, he moved it out of its case and into his gourd.

The sands mixed together for a moment, clashed in disharmony before blending back into the usual shape. Ever since that first time, Gaara has added the bits of sand into his gourd. It was a gift and he had felt, though he would not admit it, foolishly pleased to have it with him always. It made him feel a little bit closer to Naruto.

Gaara frowned for a moment and stared at the gourd, then pressed his palm against the side and urged the sand through his chakra to obey him and move. The upper dome of the gourd shifted like thick water and the white sand came together on the surface like swirls, then at his bidding replaced one of the sets of darker grains in the nonsensical pattern that decorated it. He really wasn't sure why he'd made those marks on his gourd as a child, but the habit had stuck with him. So now there were several designs marked in near-black sand and one near the top that was a soft, shining white. Absently he hoped Naruto would send him enough of the black sand when he found it to replace another symbol, and promptly felt guilty for the thought. He shouldn't take the gifts for granted like that, but... still. He hoped.

Gaara grabbed the now-empty box and walked over to a small, nondescript shelf against the wall. There was an assortment of small containers set up along the shelf. Several were shaped like small gourds; one made of glass, one of carved oak, one made of shell and another naturally shaped husk that had been hollowed. There was many other containers too, varying in shape, design, and material but all around the same size. Of course that first crystal jar was there, too. Gaara carefully started moving the small containers aside, reminiscing over what type of sand each one had carried, until there was enough space to set the wooden box down. When it was settled to his satisfaction, making sure it was in the center just so, he started placing the little containers inside the box, piling them up carefully until there was a heaping mound in the box that couldn't possibly allow it to close. It looked a little like a treasure chest.

Satisfied, Gaara walked back to his desk and settled himself down to write a return letter to Naruto. He'd have to remember to ask Temari to find something particularly special this time.

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konpeitou: Please review and tell me what you thought, if you would be so kind. There is also a companion drabble to this called "The color of leaves" if you'd care to read that as well. Thank you for your time :D


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